


December 26th

by Jaylovesthings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Chihohohoko2020, Chris and Phichit being scheming gremlins, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Gift Exchange, M/M, Well-intentioned gremlins, have i mentioned the fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaylovesthings/pseuds/Jaylovesthings
Summary: "It wasn't what it looked like, I swear!" Yuuri cries, and wraps his fingers tighter around his cup of cocoa. "...it was just for warmth, you know?"Yuuri retells the series of events that led to he and longtime crush Victor huddling naked for warmth in an abandoned cabin. That's it, that's the whole premise.Merry belated Russian Christmas, Luna!
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Christophe Giacometti, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Comments: 17
Kudos: 109
Collections: Chihohohoko 2020: Victor’s 30th birthday exchange





	December 26th

**Author's Note:**

  * For [argentumluna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumluna/gifts).



(DECEMBER 26)

"It wasn't what it looked like, I swear!" Yuuri cries, and wraps his fingers tighter around his cup of cocoa. "...it was just for warmth, you know?" His body convulsing again as a shiver takes over his slowly thawing body. His fever has finally receded, medication from search and rescue workers did its job well, but the cold chill that had seeped into his bones still pulls shivers and chills from him.

Phichit drums his fingers on the oak coffee table thoughtfully before speaking, "We had it all planned out, you know. The whole trip! The gift exchange, the dancing...there's no reason why it shouldn't have worked! Mila's going to kill me when she gets back. She made me swear I wouldn't tell you how it was fixed."

"Can you tell that to the poor rescue workers who are permanently scarred," Yuuri moaned. "I'm going to hear that girls horrified gasp in my nightmares for years." Yuuri buried himself further in the blanket as Phichit shifted uncomfortably against the sofa. It had been bad enough to find himself mostly naked next to Victor Nikiforov in the first place, let alone discovered by search and rescue the next morning.

"Well, she can't have been too traumatized, she sent me the photos of Victor carrying you out of the cabin. He wouldn't let you go! Im telling you, Yuuri, he's so far gone on you it's not even funny."

Yuuri groaned for the third time that hour.

"He's not, and this entire weekend was a disaster. I love you, Peach, you know I do. But I may have to move after this."

Yuuri looked out from the blanket sharply, "And put down your phone, you are not sharing any of this on Insta. This is what got me into this mess in the first place..."

(December 17)

phichit-chu 

[Photo: Yuuri and Phichit selfie outside university library, wide smiles]

Caption: Finished with finals! Looking forward to a low key break with my BFF

Comments:

mari87- Congrats bro, eat some kfc for me

Karbear- Beautiful campus, beautiful guys

v-nikiforov- Wow hello campus cuties 

christophe-gc- Finals are done? Come party with us, mon cher, and bring you know who.

. . .

"Yuuri, you know how I posted that photo of us earlier today?" Phichit's head peeked around the corner as he spoke above the noise of tinny gunfire and tires squealing.

Yuuri barely looked up from his xbox, fingers flying across the controller. "Yeah, ok, I let you post one photo of me this semester. That was the agreement right? I hit my quota. Why?"

"You might want to turn the game off for this one... This is better than you acing your Computational Complexity final. Better than our celebratory katsudon—"

"That katsudon was crap and you know it." Yuuri didn't bother you look up from his game. "You've HAD my moms, remember? No comparison. This one was just for traditions sake."

Phichit walks next to the couch, phone in hand. Wiggling the phone next to Yuuri's head, he says simply "Chris Giacometti invited us to his cabin in Switzerland over break. All expenses paid by his shitty rich parents. A certain dance major will also be in attendance." He waits for the words to hit Yuuri. 

3, 2, 1— The controller clatters to the floor. 

Yuuri looks up at Phichit, panic clear in his eyes. "No, no no no, Phichit, no. Absolutely not. Not a chance."

(December 26)

"Yuuri, take the blanket off your head, you can't still be cold." In defiance, Yuuri snuggles in deeper.

"Mmmmfgshrr."

"What was that?" Phichit says with a bright smile. "You know, Chris had the best intentions. He really did! Victor's followed me on Insta ever since I interviewed him for my midterm paper, remember? Dance Diva Dazzles in Production of Swan Lake. Not my best title, I admit,” The fireplace lets out a pop and a spark lazily floats to the carpet. Yuuri snakes a foot out to smother the glowing ember. His toes wiggle further into the plush carpet as he glares at Phichit. "-but my POINT is," Phichit continued "He noticed you a long time ago. Remember that comment he left on that spring break picture? The one of you in those blue swim trunks?"

Yuuri sighed, "He wasn't talking about me though.. 'Wow, who's the cutie in blue' could have applied to literally anyone in that picture. There must have been twenty people in blue at that beach."

An uncharacteristic silence stretches between the two as Yuuri stares at the fire, and Phichit stares, disbelieving, at Yuuri.

_thunk_

Yuuri roughly sets the mug on the coffee table and rises to his feet, blanket firmly wrapped around himself. "I think this weekend made it pretty clear that Victor isn't interested in me." He crosses the room to gaze out the large window. The snow is still falling, gentle large flakes that collect on the trees and rooftops. "Why would he be? I made such a fool of myself at the gift exchange."

(December 23)

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Yuuri whines. His suitcase thuds against the hardwood floor of the bedroom. Phichit follows him into the room and whistles.

"Chris's family really goes all out, doesn't he? Look at this room!" Phichit marvels, and steps over the suitcases.

"Check out the view from this window, Yuuri! Come and take a selfie with me!"

The mountains are covered in snow, picturesque and forbidding. Trees covered in snow dot the landscape, and the roofs of neighboring cabins peek out from the Swiss forest.

"It's like a fucking Norman Rockwell painting," He mutters under his breath, "who actually lives like this?"

"Get changed, Yuuri, we're doing the gift exchange after dinner." Phichit calls from the bathroom as he rummages through his bag. "We're the last ones to arrive, I think. You got your secret santa gift all ready?"

Yuuri opens his bag and pulls out the first sweater he sees. He's one arm into it before Phichit grabs his arm- "No, Yuuri, just no. I can't let you waste this vacation on shapeless sweaters and workout pants. Just get out of your own way, Yuuri, and let something good happen to you for once! Hang on—" Phichit rummages through his bag, pulling out jeans and a button down. He smiles mischievously at his best friend, shaking the shirt at him.

. . .

"Georgi, it's your turn to give your gift," Chris calls. "Kindly untangle yourself from Anya for a moment."

Yuuri and Phichit, some

of the last guests to arrive at the gathering, take their seats at the end of a sofa. The large room is full of plush chairs and sofas, all occupied by friends and students. Yuuri recognizes a few familiar faces. Georgi and Anya, Chris's friends from the dance department, untangle themselves from the loveseat. Georgi stands and collects his gift. Crossing the room to where Phichit sits, he tosses the neatly wrapped gift into his lap.

"Merry Christmas, my friend," Georgi raises his glass.

Phichit throws a wink to the room at large, and sets to opening the gift. Wrapping paper flying, soft Christmas music playing, Yuuri can't help but relax into the moment. When Phichit pulls out a set of ten tiny plastic hands, one for each finger, he erupts into thunderous laughter.

"Yuuri, Yuuri, take a picture, ha ha ha ha!"

Phone at the ready, he grins at his friend and his infectious laughter.

"Well this is a handy present," Phichit starts, posing with fingers hands waving in the air, "I may need a hand handling them all...”

"Noooooo," drawls Chris from

across the room. "Absolutely no hand puns. We'll never get him to stop!" A brunette girl Yuuri thinks might be in the Linguistics department throws a cushion and hits Phichit squarely in the head.

"Uncalled for!!" He squeals. "This is getting—" Georgi groans loudly "—out of hand! Ok, ok, I'll stop. Chris, who's turn is it?"

Phichit clamors back onto his seat on the sofa, wiggling one miniature plastic hand near Yuuri's ear. He swats it away. Chris disappears behind the couch, and reappears with a hat. Swirling his hand inside, he flourishes a piece a paper.

"Alright, next is—"

"What, starting without me?"

Heads around the room snap up in unison at the newcomer's voice.

"Victor, finally!" Chris calls excitedly and crosses the room to greet his friend. He playfully ruffles a hand in his hair to dislodge some stray snowflakes. "Did you just get in? Is it still snowing?"

Snowflakes cling artfully to the shoulders of Victor's soft grey sweater. 

_Like he just walked out of a snow globe_ , Yuuri's brain unhelpfully provides.

"A little snow never stopped me, Chris, you know that. But don't let me interrupt your game." Victor stops in the doorway long enough to remove his shoes and pull a wrapped gift from his dark blue backpack. He goes to sit next to Chris. The chatter of the room rises again.

"Phichit," Yuuri groans under his breath "How does he look like a model even covered in snow. It isn't fair!"

Phichit considers for a moment. "I could get some snow for your hair too, then you two could match!" Yuuri snorts into his drink, breath steaming his glass. "That's the last thing I need, being compared to Victor. Just look at him."

"I'm looking, Yuuri, and you know what," Phichit says quietly. "I see a gorgeous, talented, kind guy." He wags one plastic mini hand in Victors general direction. "And Victor's ok too, I guess." Phichit dissolves into laughter once more, and Yuuri gives him an elbow in the ribs.

Chris waves his hand in the air, clutching the paper once more. "Alright, it's Yuuri up next. Who are you giving to?"

Yuuri's ear are bright red as he pulls the small wrapped package out from behind the couch cushion. Phichit gives him a small shove off the sofa.

"I, uh...I've got. Well. Vi-Victor. Here." Amid the hoots and hollers, Yuuri finds himself standing in front of his longtime crush. He digs one toe into the thick carpet and thrusts the gift in front of himself with one hand. He's proud of the way he holds his hand steady, now he just needs to make sure not to make eye conta—

_Oh God_ , Yuuri moans internally, _his eyes are so blue!_

Victor is smiling through silvery lashes at Yuuri standing over him. One corner of his mouth is raised in a half smile as he turns away from the gift.

_Just take the present! What is taking him so long?_

Victor rummages through his backpack, intently searching. "What are the chances, I guess we’re each other's secret santa's!” He turns back to Yuuri with a sheepish smile “I must have left yours with my suitcase in the room..." 

Yuuri quickly retreats to the other sofa, hoping against hope that his hair covers the flush rising in his face. Did he say something stupid back to Victor? Did he say thank you, Merry Christmas, you’re gorgeous? Did he say anything at all?

_Stupid, stupid—_

"Wow," Victor whoops from across the room. "I get my own exclusive photos! So forward, Yuuri! So sexy!"

HIs head snaps up so quickly he's afraid he's done something terrible to his neck. What happened to the small English dictionary he had carefully wrapped? The innocuous gift that was so bland it wouldn't immediately give away Yuuri's long held feelings for Victor. The innocent—

"Come on, Yuuri," Phichit is intently whispering in his ear, "it wasn't a great secret santa gift anyway. I swapped it out before we left. Secret santa gifts are supposed to be funny, or cute, or sexy..."

Phichit is cut off by a thrown pillow for the second time that evening as Yuuri hurls it and curses under his breath.

"I gotta say, Yuuri," Anya flips through a small stack of photos being passed around the room. "I for one would be happy to get a secret santa like you. Wow!" Georgi goes to snatch the photos out of her hands, but Chris's fingers deftly pluck the stack away. He whistles appreciatively and raises his eyebrows.

"You take these photos, Phichit?"

A small tuft of black hair manages to turn in Chris's direction from under the half nelson wrestling hold Yuuri has him in.

"Mmphfhmm!"

He releases Phichit’s head and pretends to look anywhere but at Victor who has managed to keep hold of exactly one picture.

_Oh no_ , he cringes, _not the picture of—_

"Oh Yuuri, this is so cute!" Victor coos. "I didn't know you could roller skate! Where did you get the santa themed hot pants?"

Yuuri wants to crawl under the sofa. Really. He would really appreciate being anywhere but here right now. What possessed him to take these photos in the first place? Years of friendship with Phichit, of course. Phichit has a way about him, he makes you feel so comfortable around him that your inhibitions are naturally lower than normal. He is Yuuri's best friend, and always will be, embarrassing blackmail photos or not.

He quietly slips from the room amid the chaos and chatter.

(December 26)

"Well I know for a FACT that he liked those photos, Yuuri." Phichit is stubbornly crossing his arms in front of himself. "I saw him slip the hot pants picture into his backpack when you weren't looking. The man's got taste!"

Yuuri is still standing at the large picture window watching the large snowflakes drift lazily across the whitewashed sky. Yuuri glances sideways at his already packed suitcase tucked away in a corner of the room. A sweater sleeve and the brown ear of a stuffed animal poke out from a hastily zipped packing job. He's ready to go home. He's made a fool out of himself enough already.

_Maybe this will be enough for me to finally get over my crush on Victor_ , he thinks wistfully.

_Funny, handsome, perfect, dancing—_

(December 24)

Yuuri stumbles into an unoccupied bedroom on the second floor of the spacious cabin. This bedroom is blessedly quiet, unlike the two other occupied bedrooms he found along the way. His own bedroom is currently housing a very drunk Chris playing twister with Georgi and a girl named Karissa. Biology student perhaps? He can't keep track of all of Chris's friends.

He shuts the wooden door behind himself and hears a small click as the door latches shut. Yuuri sags down onto the bed, not caring that he's sitting on a pile of neatly folded clothes. He'll fix them when he leaves, he supposes. A small bedside lamp is lit, but the room is dark otherwise. Evening has fallen and he can still hear the faint sounds of Bing Crosby crooning "The Christmas Song" from the kitchen down the hall. Too many voices and too much raucous laughter for him. It's nice, seeing all of his friends happy and together. It really is. But sometimes it gets to be too much all at once. There's a reason why he usually declines the college parties that Phichit invites him to.

He falls back on the bed and closes his eyes. He's spent the day dodging Chris and hiding from Victor. The cabin is spacious, ostentatious really, but there are only so many places to hide. The room smells nice, almost like...

The door cracks open, and Yuuri bolts upright.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize anyone was...Well. I just wanted to grab my sweate— Yuuri?" Victor’s silhouette is framed in the doorway. All Yuuri can see is his dark outline as the door swings wide open. Victor's head cocks to one side as he steps into the room. Yuuri is frozen in place.

_Oh god. I am not prepared for this_.

_Sweater. He said he just wants his sweater, then he will leave. Where is the sweater?_

Victor takes a step toward Yuuri, his bright face in full view now that the hallway light behind him is blocked by the bedroom door swinging shut.

_Where is the goddamn sweater?!_

Victor is standing next to the bed, looking down at Yuuri, perplexed.

"Are- are you ok, Yuuri? You look like maybe you had some bad egg nog."

_Not bad egg nog, no,_ Yuuri's brain very unhelpfully supplies. _Just one very handsome dance major._

Victor puts his weight on one leg and sweeps a hand through his short, silvery hair. "Well, I'm flattered you think so, Yuuri!"

_Shit,_ Yuuri panics. _Did I say that out loud?_

"I've been looking for you today, you know. I can't believe I've had to come all the way to Switzerland just to get to know you better! But...you ran out before the game finished yesterday, and I never got a chance to give you your gift in return."

Victor furrows his brows and carefully places one long finger across his ( _gorgeous, god, they're perfect_ ) lips.

"I know we've met on campus a few times, but you're always rushing off to some class or lab. So busy! I know my first two years at University were so hectic I can't even remember taking the time to—"

He supposes that Victor is still talking, but his mind is struggling to play catch up. His unhelpful brain seems to be starting at Victor's platinum hair and working its way downward. Like a very unhelpful and 

unscientific catalog.

1) Hair, perfect

2)Eyes, blue, perfect

3)Lips, moving, perfect

4)Jawline, chiseled, perfect

His brain stops the catalog somewhere around —37) T-Shirt: black, tight, perfect—

before he registers that Victor has paused his endless chatter to ask if he can sit on the bed next to him. He must have nodded his head, he must have, because Victor is sitting next to him and that is just. Well, —38) Too close. Perfect. Full stop.—

"Well? What about it, Yuuri?" Victor leans in, eyes sparkling with interest. "What made you choose Computer Science?"

And just like that, Yuuri is talking to Victor Nikiforov. His longtime crush of at least two years.

_Would have been longer,_ he thinks, _if I had met him before University._

He tells Victor about his hobby of skating as a child. In return, Victor tells him about watching his mother as a ballerina in the Novosibirsk Theatre Ballet. Yuuri talks about the challenges of moving to the US as a foreign college student, and his deeply held wish to help his parents run their business better. Victor makes Yuuri laugh as he recounts the first time he took to the dance stage in college, so nervous that he grabbed the outfit of the pageboy instead of the prince.

It's easy. It's as easy as talking to Phichit. Maybe easier in a way, because by this point, Phichit would be thinking of a dozen photos for his insta that Yuuri would "just look so perfect in! Please Yuuri, just one, I promise!" while Victor is simply looking, smiling, and laughing. Demanding nothing of Yuuri at all. Their easy conversation quiets and stops as they listen to the Christmas music droning on in the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas darling," the gentle voice floats through the walls of the cabin, "Happy New Year too..."

Yuuri's smile stills as he turns to face Victor on the bed. Victor is looking at him intently, eyes wide, and lips parted.

_Is he..._

Victor carefully places one hand on the bedspread next to Yuuri. He leans forward, just a bit closer. Yuuri can't believe his eyes, and fights against the urge to screw them tightly shut.

"...logs on the fire fill me with desire..."

Yuuri's mouth goes dry, and he blinks rapidly as Victor reaches his other hand behind and past Yuuri's head. They're close now. Too close. Yuuri could count the pores on Victor's nose if he wanted to.

Not that he has any to speak of.

Suddenly Victor clears his throat and straightens himself, sitting tall on the bed and holding up the wrapped gift he had retrieved from behind the pillow. The small gift is poorly wrapped, tape sticking out at odd angles. Victor continues to hold the gift in front of himself with one hand, other hand rubbing his neck.

"Well, are you going to take it or not, Yuuri? I know it's a day late, and I know it's not wrapped well. It didn't really survive the trip in my backpack. I think my laptop may have squished it on the airpla—"

Yuuri snatches the gift out of his hand and holds it close. He looks down at the shoddy workmanship and thinks that maybe he hasn't seen a better wrapping job in his whole life.

"It's great," Yuuri chuckles softly. "It looks like one that Loop wrapped for me last year."

Victor looks amused but doesn't question exactly who this Loop person is. He is intently watching and his eyes sparkle as Yuuri picks at the corner of the gift. Yuuri peels back the wrapping paper and freezes.

It's a stuffed animal. A stuffed poodle. A small brown stuffed poodle.

Victor's heart shaped smile beams down at Yuuri as his eyes crinkle shut with mirth. "I saw the poodles on your phone case when we ran into each other in the Quad last spring, remember? Your cute phone case with your cute little brown dogs! When Chris gave me your name for secret santa, it took me a while to decide, but then I knew just what to get you."

Victor cracks his eyes open, his delight cut short by the sight of large tears trickling down Yuuri's face. One hand is clutching the dog, and the other is balled into a fist.

"Yuuri...I...oh no, I didn't—"

Yuuri furiously wipes at the tears and pulls his knees into his chest.

_Stupid. Stupid! Get yourself together, Yuuri!_

Victor reaches a hand out tentatively, but draws back before it reaches Yuuri's shoulder. Yuuri looks up at him, well-meaning, perfect, clueless Victor, and can't seem to do anything but let the fat tears fall. His chin quivers as he struggles to find his voice. Victor has moved away from him on the bed, looking anywhere but at Yuuri.

"My dog, Vicchan, he—" is all that Yuuri manages to get out before he is overcome again. He crumples in on himself and lets his head fall onto the pillow. It was still so fresh, the passing of his beloved pet. While the tears don't fall daily anymore, a reminder like this...well.

Yuuri thinks at some point he feels a soft hand on his back, and roughly shrugs it off. He knows that he hears soft footsteps cross room as the door clicks shut sometime later. The room is quiet again.

"...next year all our troubles will be miles away, once again as in olden days..."

_Oh._

His head is still buried in the pillow, but his hand has brushed against something soft.

_There's the goddamn sweater._

(December 26)

Phichit is quiet for a long moment as Yuuri's words trail off into silence. Yuuri has crossed back across the room and onto the sofa. His back is firmly turned away from his suitcase and the accusing ear of the stuffed dog poking out from the corner of the suitcase.

"He stayed all night, you know." Phichit is quiet, and directs his words to the fireplace instead of to Yuuri. "Outside the bedroom, just sitting on the floor. When Chris and I came looking for you, he just said you had some bad egg nog and were resting." He turns and gives a half smile to Yuuri.

Yuuri returns the smile wistfully. Victor was good. A good dancer, a good student, a good person. Just maybe, after all of this, he could be a good friend to Yuuri too. That night, he had spent the whole night in his room.

He hadn't meant to, really he hadn't!

After crying himself out on Victor's pillow (and definitely not memorizing the lingering smell of Victor's cologne on the pillow) he was too mortified to show his face. Puffy eyes, red splotchy checks, and disheveled hair were not things he wanted to preset to this cabin full of friends and friends-of-friends. Plus, Victor was out there somewhere, no doubt horrified at Yuuri's little outburst. So, he hid. And accidentally fell asleep.

Phichit throws his arm over himi. Phichit lays his head down on his friends blanket clad shoulder. "I had no idea, Yuuri. If I had known he was going to bring the poodle, I would have told him about Vicchan." 

Yuuri's quiet huff of laughter is all the reassurance Phichit needs to know that all is well between them. 

"Peach, if I had known you and Chris were in cahoots about this whole thing, I never would have agreed to come in the first place." Yuuri jostled him playfully. "Now go refill my hot chocolate. It's the least you can do. I almost froze to death in the snow last night, and I still need some warming up."

Phichit lets out a choked cough as he crosses the room to the electric kettle tells Yuuri, and decides against making a comment about Victor warming him up nicely. Instead he says, "It wasn't all embarrassing for you, though. Victor had his share too." Yuuri groans for what must be the hundredth time in a week.

(December 25)

"You don't have to clean up after every meal, Yuuri!" Chris calls from the dining room. Glass in hand, Chris lounges in the dining room chair, lazily sloshing liquid back and forth. He isn't the only resident of the cabin who's on the far side of sober. Yuuri has taken to clearing the dishes away after each meal, mostly in an attempt to avoid embarrassing conversations with a certain someone.

He's rinsing and stacking dishes in the sink, one by one, when he catches a glimpse of Phichit and Victor huddled together in a corner of the dining room. Craning his neck to get a better view, but trying very hard to look like he's not craning his neck to get a better view, Yuuri squints to get a better look.

_Should have worn my glasses..._

Victor is gesturing wildly to Phichit, who stands with his arms crossed. Victor hangs his head a bit as Phichit slowly shakes his head.

"I think that dish is clean." Georgi pokes his head into the kitchen. Yuuri stops the unending circular motion of the sponge on the dish, cheeks flushing. Georgi takes the plate out of his hand and begins to dry it with a towel.

"You know, I noticed Anya a long time before I ever worked up the courage to talk to her..." Georgi begins, but is cut off by a loud huff from Yuuri.

"Is two weeks a long time?" Yuuri grabs a wine glass and empties the remaining liquid into the sink. "You started barking up that tree so fast she didn't know what hit her." Yuuri dodges a swat from Georgi's now damp towel.

"It was love at first sight, who could blame me!" His eyes grow distant as he reminisces. "I saw her across the foyer of the Peterson building, books in hand..."

Yuuri tunes Georgi out in favor of watching Victor surreptitiously over his shoulder. He's really making a habit of tuning people out, it seems. Victor's hand is stretched out in a pleading motion. He sways a bit, his other hand reaching out to steady himself on Phichit's shoulder.

"...and she gave me her number, just like that! Can you believe it? So of course I had to text right away..."

Yuuri turns back to the sink and furiously rinses off a handful of knives.

What is going on between Phichit and Victor? What are they talking about?

He grips the sponge tighter and dares one more glance over his shoulder. Victor's shoulders slump and he walks back to his chair in the dining room. Slouching low, he holds his glass out for Sophia, a friend of Chris’s, to refill. He doesn't seem to notice that he's spilled a bit on the tablecloth.

"...sometimes you just have to take a chance, you know?"

Phichit is now whispering conspiratorially with Chris, their heads close together at the far end of the dining table.

"Yuuri, are you even listening to me?" Georgi chides, kitchen towel in hand. Yuuri turns to see a mischievous smile play across Georgi's face as his eyes dart from Yuuri to the dining room.

"Ahh, Yuuri. To be young and in love! You've got nothing to worry about, trust me." He claps him on the shoulder, and leaves the rest of the dishes to a bewildered Yuuri.

_What...the hell was that??_

Shaking his head, Yuuri abandons the dishes in favor of seeking out Phichit. He finds him in the hallway closest to the main floor bedrooms, furiously clicking away at the buttons on his phone. He looks up to see Yuuri coming down the hall and pockets the phone quickly.

"Yuuri! Just who I was waiting for. Sara texted me from Mila's place and wants a status update on our trip! Let's send her a snap of the both of us." Phichit's smile beams at Yuuri a little too brightly for once. Yuuri narrows his eyes and glances from Phichit's face to the pocket where he stowed the phone just moments before. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and chuckles, "...maybe later then."

"What were you talking to Victor about?" Yuuri is trying to keep the anxiety from bleeding into his voice, but it's either anxiety or accusation. Anxiety wins out.

Phichit turns on his heel and makes for their shared bedroom.

"Hey!" Yuuri quickly hurries after him. "Nuh uh, this is not how this conversation goes." He manages to get a foot in the door of the bedroom and worms his way inside. He shuts the door and uses his body to block it.

No way out.

Phichit sighs and turns to face him. "Would you believe me if I told you that Victor just said he isn't feeling well?" The intense pleading look on his friends face is almost enough to guilt Yuuri into letting it go. Almost.

"Bullshit." Yuuri's back is against the door, the wooden frame making him feel steady and solid. He knows Phichit too well to fall for this.

"What if I told you that he's pining like a harlequin heroine, just waiting for you to ravish him senseless?" Phichit smiles disarmingly and flashes his white teeth.

"Even bigger bullshit." Yuuri has begun to tap his foot against the hardwood floor. A quick staccato to match his fraying nerves. 

"At least have the decency to lie believably."

"I wouldn't bullshit you about this," Phichit looks scandalizes. "Not about Victor! Listen, it's nothing. Seriously! He was worried about his secret santa gift. I just told him about Vicchan, that's all. He felt really awful about the whole thing." 

Ba-Ding!

An electronic beep chimes in the bedroom. Phichit sits up on the bed, digging into his pocket. He swipes up on his phone, and a familiar gleam creeps back into his expressive face. 

“Chris needs us in the living room, Yuuri, let’s go.” He leaps to his feet, phone in one hand, and grabs Yuuri with the other. As he sweeps out of the bedroom, Yuuri can’t help but be caught in the current of Phichit’s enthusiasm. It’s hard not to get swept up in his energy, sometimes. Yuuri allows himself, a bit grudgingly, to be lead down the hallway and past the dining room. 

It’s easier than trying to interrogate Phichit about Victor, anyway. 

A cozy fire crackles cheerfully in the large stone fireplace that dominates the living room. Georgi and Anya are comfortably chatting on an overstuffed sofa, while Sophia and some redhead that Yuuri doesn’t know, take up space on another. The far corner contains two houseguests who seem to have found a better occupation for their mouths than talking. Victor sits slouched in an armchair in front of the fireplace, (another!) drink in hand, while Chris is draped across the back of the large chair. He’s idly twisting a braid into Victor’s side swept bangs and listening to Victor mutter about...something. Yuuri can’t hear what. Chris seems to have moved the bluetooth speaker from the kitchen to the living room, and is playing some truly awful Christmas song with a techno beat to it. 

_Really, truly awful. Wow. Chris has poor taste._

Seeing that Victor is already occupying a chair, Yuuri turns on his heel and attempts to march right back out the same way he came in. 

“Oh no you don’t…” Phichit has him by an elbow and steers him to the empty remaining sofa. “Chris needs more players, so we’re up!” 

Upon seeing Phichit and Yuuri, Chris brightens and straightens up from his perch on Victor’s chair. He grabs his phone and turns the volume down on the music. 

“Ok, the game is good ol’ fashioned Truth or Dare—” Protests and groans erupt from the rooms occupants. “—with a twist! Anyone can elect not to answer a question by taking a drink. All dares must follow through, or else face the consequence of being locked in the closet for ‘seven minutes of heaven.’” Chris crosses his arms and leans against the wall, a triumphant smirk on his face. 

Sophia objects from under her blanket on the sofa, “Chris, are you fucking kidding me? There’s a thousand drinking games out there, and this is how we’re spending Christmas day?” She throws her empty plastic cup at Chris who narrowly dodges. 

“I think it sounds fun! I’ll grab the drinks.” Phichit is already standing and collecting glasses from the drink cart in the corner of the living room. He throws a conspiratorial smile in Chris’s direction. 

“And for that objection, Sophia, you get to go first!” Chris salutes Sophie with his glass and sits on the stone ledge in front of the fireplace. He leans forward, and stage whispers behind his free hand, “Truth or dare?”

Sophie rolls her eyes but calls out “Truth!” confidently. 

A half hour into the game, Yuuri starts to relax. The game is fun and lighthearted, just what he needed to relax his fraying nerves today. Phichit has already been dared to stand barefoot in the snow outside. Anya has stunned Georgi by kissing him senseless when someone asked her if she loved him. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” Chris hoots from his warm seat next to the fireplace. 

Much to Yuuri delight, the redhead dares Victor to perform as many fouettés as he can on a patch of hardwood floor that isn’t covered in a thick area rug. He manages at least ten before the hazy fog of alcohol causes him to stumble. Yuuri can’t help but notice that Victor uses his couch as a mark while he spins, head tracking Yuuri as his body turns and turns. He’s now lying on the floor, one hand across his eyes and shaking with laughter. 

“Did you see me Yuuri?” He asks excitedly, laughter bubbling as he props himself up on one elbow. Yuuri smiles back. 

An hour into the admittedly childish, but somehow very fun game, Chris has his shirt off, Yuuri has stuffed seventeen marshmallows into his mouth (suck it, Georgi), Sophie and the cute redhead have happily disappeared into the closet, and Phichit has taken more pictures than even he knows what to do with. Victor has somehow ended up on the sofa with Yuuri, who is acutely aware of his proximity. 

“Victor, truth or dare?” Phichit calls, between scrolling and furiously editing photos on his phone. 

“Hmmm,” Victor taps his lip thoughtfully, stealing a glance at Yuuri. “Truth.” 

“Have you ever had a crush on a student at our school?”

Phichit has put his phone down and leans intently toward Victor. 

Oh my god.

Yuuri wants to run, wants to crawl into the couch, wants to do...something. The game so far had been safe, or as safe as a dumb game of Truth or Dare could be. He could kill Phichit.

Victor looks thoughtful, and casually answers “Yes.” 

Abort. Abort! 

Chris’s eyes dance as he slings an arm casually around Phichit shoulders. “Oh mon cher, you can’t end it there! Tell us who!” 

“Pass.” Victor takes a large swallow from his cup, stretches himself off the sofa, and holds it up for a refill. Phichit pours for him. 

“Since you passed, you have to answer another question. Do you have a crush on someone that’s here in this house?” 

Yuuri thinks he might be able to count each individual fiber of the couch’s cushion with how intently he begins to study it. Is that a crack in the ceiling above him? He’s looking everywhere but at the one person he desperately wants to, afraid of what he’ll see looking back at him. Victor has been the object of his fantasies for a long time, but has become so very real to him over the last few days. Yuuri doesn’t stand a chance with him, obviously, but it’s been...nice. Nice to get to know him as a friend, and have an excuse to stare. Just a bit. 

The past two days have only confirmed to Yuuri what he already knew. Close proximity to his unrequited crush brings out the truly mortifying embarrassment that he feared. Awful pictures not fit for human eyes. An anxiety fueled crying fit over a stuffed dog, of all things. This is what Yuuri brings to the table, and he doesn’t think he will be able to take it when Victor reveals that he has a crush on Chris, or Phichit, or some other fabulous dance major with chiseled abs and perfect hair.

“Pass.” Yuuri can hear him swallow his drink from his seat next to him on the couch.

It must be Yuuri’s imagination, but Victor seems a bit...sad as he says this. Why would he pass on this question? He dares to steal a glance up at Victor, who is looking at Yuuri with a strange expression. He looks a bit hazy and unsteady, but intently looking into Yuuri’s eyes. He holds Victor’s gaze for a moment before letting his eyes fall back to his hands

_Oh, ok,_ Yuuri thinks. _I get it now. Wow, he really is too nice._

Of course, Victor has a crush on someone else. Of course he won’t say who it is here. It’s so obvious that Yuuri likes him. Victor won’t say who it is here, when it would so obviously break Yuuri’s heart. It must be someone charming, cool, talented. 

_All the things I’m not._

He is just too nice to say it during this loud and messy party. He doesn’t want Yuuri to ruin the mood by turning into a blubbering mess again. This makes sense. 

Yuuri sets his cup gingerly on the table as he rises off the sofa. He quietly walks over to Phichit who is looking concerned. “I’m ready for bed, Phichit. This was fun, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Yuuri can’t quite meet his friends eyes. He doesn’t want to see the concern there, or worse, pity. Phichit looks helplessly around the room, catching Chris’s eye. 

“Dare,” Chris slurs slightly, “dare, I dare Yuuri to…” Yuuri freezes in place as Chris’s eyes travel around the room and land on Victor. 

“...I dare Yuuri and Victor to dance. I choose the song.”

Yuuri’s heart sinks. This would be the final nail in the coffin. Victor would refuse, and Yuuri would look like such a lovestruck fool. Phichit is halfway out of his seat before Chris is finished speaking, making abortive gestures with his hands. “Wait, Chris, this—” he begins, but is cut off by Victor, already out of his chair, looking dazed.

“Da. I accept. Yes!” Victor downs the last of his drink, and looks a little frayed around the edges as he rises unsteadily to his feet. Yuuri spins to face him, uncertainty radiating from him. In three strides Victor is standing before Yuuri, mouth slightly ajar and hand outstretched. He is the picture of tipsy confidence, and Yuuri can’t do anything but stare. The room has gone quiet, save for the insistent music coming from the speaker. Chris is muffling quiet laughter, oblivious to Yuuri’s discomfort, while Phichit is looking stricken back and forth between Yuuri and Victor. Victor bends down slightly, scooping Yuuri’s unresponsive hand up and holding it in his own. His lopsided grin widens as Yuuri gapes at him. 

_This can’t be happening. Why is this happening?_

“Ok gentlemen, one song of my choosing.” Chris is fiddling with his phone, intent on finding an appropriate Christmas song choice for the two. Yuuri’s hand feels cold and clammy compared to Victor’s warm palm.

_This isn’t right_ , Yuuri thinks. _This isn’t how this should be._

The song starts up, and Victor immediately sweeps Yuuri along, the slow waltz coming easily, if a bit tipsily, to his trained dancer’s body. He dips his head down closer to Yuuri’s ear and says a bit too loudly, “This will be easy, Yuuri! A waltz!”

“Silver and gold...silver and gold…”

Chris’s terrible song choice ( _he really does have just the most awful taste_ ) warbles loudly from the speaker.

Yuuri is struggling to keep up with Victor’s enthusiastic steps. What started out as a comfortable, simple game between friends is leaving a sour taste in Yuuri’s mouth. He had wanted to leave. He didn’t want to do this, why hadn’t Phichit listened to him? 

“No fame or fortune, nor riches untold…”

The room starts to spin faster, and faces blur past his peripheral vision. Georgi and Anya, cozy and comfortable. Sophia (returned from the closet) pouring herself another drink. The fireplace roaring. 

“Stop…” Yuuri’s voice catches in his throat. 

Chris’s uninhibited laughter. Phichit standing at Chris’s shoulder, mouth set in a grim line. The fireplace again. Faster.

Faster.

Victor halts and pulls him in close, too close, and the room abruptly stops spinning. He flourishes one arm above his head, lowers it to clutch at Yuuri’s back and dramatically dips him low. His head is still dipping down close to Yuuri’s ear and he begins to sing softly, “Don’t give me a mansion on top of the hill. Don’t give me the world with a shallow thrill.” 

The room is too warm, Victor is too close, Chris’s laughter too loud. It’s all too much, and all he wants is some goddamn space.

“Stop!” Yuuri shouts, and tears his hand away from Victor. He straightens up, takes a step back, and plants his back foot firmly on the carpet. Victor’s easy smile vanishes from his face in the space of a heartbeat. He stumbles backwards a step, foot catching on a loose cushion, and falls backwards. He is in an ungainly heap on the floor, looking dazed.

This isn’t how this is supposed to be.

Yuuri is furious. Furious with Chris for going along with this stupid game, furious with Phichit for ignoring his pleading wish to leave, furious with Victor for stringing him along like this. Furious with himself, most of all, for not being able to be a normal college student for once and just go with the flow. He finds himself looking down at Victor from above. His eyes, which had been so vibrant and happy, were now dimmed with confusion. 

Phichit is at Yuuri’s side then, eyes dark and intent. His hands are raised in a conciliatory gesture, his body radiating worry and regret. “Yuuri, I’m sorry, I should have stopped it--” Yuuri cuts him off with a huff and a turned shoulder. He can’t look at Phichit right now.

Victor has started scrambling, with difficulty to his feet, and Chris has managed to stop the music. Yuuri turns and defiantly faces the room at large. 

“I didn’t want this! I didn’t agree to this.” Yuuri turns his focus onto Chris. “You can’t just make people do what you want like this because you think it will be funny.” 

Chris looks apologetic as he begins, “Yuuri, nobody meant it to be funny at all! I’m sorry my fr—” He’s stopped by Victor’s hand on his shoulder, and he has managed to find his feet at last. Victor nods to his friend and stands, swaying, in front of Yuuri yet again. He’s close enough that Yuuri can feel the heat radiating from him. His shoulders droop, and the corners of his mouth turn down. It’s a look that Yuuri hates to see, hates to know that he caused.

“Yuuri,” he begins softly, “I’m sorry. I should have realized you were uncomfortable.” He narrows his eyes at Victor, but not because of the quick apology. Victor’s eyes look unfocused, he’s unsteady, he’s flushed. 

_Something is wrong,_ Yuuri thinks. 

He’s standing close, but if he had been standing a bit closer, Yuuri might have smelled the alcohol on his breath.

“I should have…” he continues, “...should have...” What he should have done, he will never know, because at that moment, he lurches forward toward Yuuri, mouth open in surprise and…

Yuuri feels it almost before he sees it, vomit straight from Victor’s mouth to Yuuri’s jacket, jeans, and socks. Time seems to slow as Yuuri’s eyes grow wide in horror. Anya shrieks from the sofa, while Georgi has elected to vault straight over the back of his seat altogether. Phichit has danced away from Yuuri’s side, and Chris is now standing on the stone bench that makes up the fireplace’s mantle. Victor is on one knee now, chest heaving and tears pricking the corners of his eyes. 

Yuuri is flying backwards, arms cartwheeling, and running toward his room as fast as his feet will carry him.

(December 26)

Yuuri has his now-dry head buried in Phichit’s lap as he groans. 

“He threw up on me, Phichit. Signals don’t get much more clear than that.” His voice is muffled in the blanket that has become his comfort and his armor over the last few hours. Phichit has a hand on Yuuri back, rubbing soothing circles over the blanket. He looks stricken as he tries, “you know that’s not it, Yuuri. He was drunk. And upset, but mostly drunk.” His hand stills as he perks up a bit, recalling a now distant memory. “It’s not the first time that’s happened actually. Remember that party at Matt’s place last July that you wouldn’t come to? The summer costume party that you said, and I quote, you wouldn’t set foot in if you were lit on fire and the only extinguisher was inside?” 

The bundle of blankets on Phichit’s lap shakes a bit, with what Phichit hopes is a fit of laughter. 

“Well Victor was there, sighing and moaning to Chris about some boy that he’d been moping over, and he got absolutely smashed. Threw up in the swimming pool, actually.” Phichit chuckles, and his eyes sparkle. “I honestly don’t know what you see in that dork, Yuuri, really I don’t. He’s kind of a mess.”

Yuuri’s head lifts off of Phichit’s lap, brows knit together in consternation. Victor is perfect, really, surely even Phichit must see that. Sure, he threw up on Yuuri’s pants and socks, and maybe his Christmas gift sucked a little, but Victor is still Victor at the end of the day. He has a smile that lights up a room, dazzling talent on the stage, he’s easy to talk to, and when he looks into his eyes it feels like…

_There I go again._

“He’s a good friend, Phichit, I can say that now.” He’s spent the time this week, against all his natural born anxieties, in close proximity with the man of his dreams. He’s talked with him, eaten meals with him, even danced with him. So the dancing didn’t end well, so what? Yuuri feels a bit like he’s been given a gift: A chance to see what Victor is like for real. He’s been kind, sweet, and even a bit clumsy. 

“Thank you.” He whispers softly, and squeezes Phichit’s hand. “Thanks for letting me have this time with him. I know you and Chris were just playing some sort of game with us or whatever,” Phichit starts to object, but is stilled by Yuuri’s small smile, “but it’s been nice anyway. To see what he’s like, like this. Just for a bit.” 

He had been watching Victor for so long, it seems. He has a hard time remembering what life was like before he took up such a large part of his mind. Unattainable, beautiful Victor. Catching a glimpse of him rushing to class, sitting in the back row of the concert hall watching him dance, pretending not to look over Phichit’s shoulder at his Instagram pictures. Yuuri has let him occupy so much of his life and thoughts. 

After this week finally, _finally_ Victor knows that he exists. Yuuri hopes against hope that this won’t be the last time they can talk together. He hopes that they might be able to remain friends. 

Hopes that someday he might know what it’s like to look into his eyes and fall asleep next to him for real, and not because of less than ideal circumstances. Not because of Yuuri’s poor decision making, and sharing heat to stay alive.

(December 25)

Yuuri careens from the room, the stench of vomit acrid and thick in his nose. He stumbles through the dark hallway to his and Phichit’s room in a mad dash, head full of thoughts. None of them are pleasant. The one thought that makes itself loudly known above all others is a resounding-

_Get the hell out of here!_

And so he does. When Phichit enters their shared bedroom, its to find vomit covered clothes thrown in a heap on the floor, Yuuri’s suitcase on its side, clothes spilled around it, and his shoes nowhere to be seen. Phichit mutters an urgent and heartfelt, “shit,” and dashes back down the hallway.

. . .

Yuuri doesn’t know how long he’s been running, but he distantly registers the cold starting to creep into his fingers and the tips of his ears. The snow outside is relentless, driving into himi. It echoes the chaos of his mind, which he finds terribly fitting. Trees whiz past his peripheral vision, limbs already heavy with snow, now bowing low with freshly added weight.

He has passed several orange lights of cabin porches during his flight, but is now finding his way by the dim light of the moon through the snow and clouds. It’s barely enough to see by, and soon it’s not enough at all. The trees and rocks which had been so charming through the windows of the cabin were now forbidding, clawing at Yuuri’s arms and grabbing at his feet. 

Vaguely, he registers exactly how moronic and overdramatic he is being. How dangerous and stupid running away is. He doesn’t care.

_People like Chris, Phichit and Victor can’t understand what it’s like to be overwhelmed like this,_ Yuuri thinks as he stumbles through the drifts.

_They don’t understand what this anxiety feels like, the overwhelming urge to flee, to be safe._

Taking action feels good, in its own way. At least he is finally doing something, instead of hiding in his room, or relying on Phichit to navigate his way through the dinners and party games. The wind is pulling at his shirt and hair, urging him back, but Yuuri resolutely moves forward. The burn in his legs feels oddly comforting as he runs. He needs this, he thinks, needed to get this restless energy out. 

_Should have done this days ago, really._

He suddenly throws his head back, arms spread wide, and gives a defiant laugh to the dark sky and driving snow. He feels giddy, foolish, falling—oh, he really is falling now. He can’t feel the tree branch hooked under his foot, his legs had long since gone numb, but he can feel the forward momentum of his body lurch in the wrong direction. The snow covered ground rushes up to meet him as his head makes contact with—

. . . 

His eyes flutter open, and he’s shifted and turned onto his back, staring into a black sky. The white flakes appears grey as they fall between the branches of the tree. Distantly, Yuuri hears an echo of something that sounds like his name. 

_Phichit? Chris? They shouldn’t be out in this mess._

The snow is falling onto his face, obscuring his already hazy vision. He closes his eyes against the cold, and darkness takes him again

. . . 

His head hurts, he can feel that much at least, as he climbs back into consciousness. He lifts one shaky hand to the side of his hand and feels warmth there. 

_Warm and red, like Victor in a sweater._

He might be delirious. 

_Oh, yeah, no, I’m definitely delirious._

He’s probably concussed.

_One hundred percent concussed, no doubt about that._

It occurs to Yuuri that he should probably care more about this, but he can’t bring himself to. He has started to feel warm and fuzzy. Very comfortable, really, this snow isn’t half bad.

He starts to compose a list, starting from his head and working his way down. 

  1. Head, snow covered, injured
  2. Chest, snow covered, breathing
  3. Arm, snow covered, still
  4. Hands, snow covered, warm-



It’s here where his mind starts to fade, and he gives into the warmth once more.

. . . 

“...Yuuri.”

He’s being woken from the most amazing dream.

“Yuuri!”

He’s been dreaming that Victor has found him, and has him in his arms. His arms are warm, strong, and wow, really muscular.

“Don’t fall asleep, Yuuri, stay with me…”

The world seems to be lurching around him, and he thinks he’s moving again, but it’s not totally unpleasant. It feels safe and warm, to be carried like this. There is still snow coating his limbs and torso, but it seems to have been swept from his face a bit. He looks through his lashes up at someone’s chin and the side of a face. His head is throbbing, but at least he’s being carried by an angel. He sighs, closes his eyes, and buries his face into the arms of this would-be angel, descending back into the dream.

. . .

Yuuri registers light before he registers anything else. It’s bright and hot, and seems out of place from the moon that had been his light up to this point. The next thing he registers is that someone is pacing frantically in front of the light. 

As his mind slowly climbs out of it’s frozen fog, Yuuri finds that Victor is pacing in front of him, one hand pulling anxiously at his hair, his other hand holding a phone.

Yuuri’s breath fogs around his face as he takes in his surroundings. A small knot of wood is pressing into his back as he sits. He’s been leaned against a wall made of rough hewn logs, the cracks of which have been patched with small stones and plaster of some kind.

A cabin?

Not a luxurious cabin like Chris’s and the others in the area. No, this is a small cabin, barely the size of the kitchen in Chris’s spacious family vacation home. The small blaze from the stone fireplace is casting dancing shadows around the room, illuminating a collection of strewn boxes, tools, and piles of chopped wood.

Among the boxes and various items is also a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The room is largely undisturbed, obviously unused or abandoned, except for a track that Victor has worn down in front of the fireplace with his pacing. 

“Shit. Shit…” Victor is still walking back and forth, disturbing small clouds of dust as he goes, and looking like his phone has personally offended his entire home country. “Damnit!” He throws the offending electronic into an open cardboard box, startling Yuuri into jumping at least a foot. Victor is at his side before he has even had a chance to return to the ground, kneeling next to him, eyes searching. 

“Yuuri, you’re awake, thank god.” It must be the head wound, but Victor looks frayed at the edges. His hair, which has always fallen to artfully over one eye, is damp and curling at the ends. His pants are wet to the knees. His face is pale and drawn. 

A sudden throb from his head threatens to overwhelm Yuuri again, and he moans into the back of his hand.

_Wow, it really hurts._

It feels like the understatement of the century. 

Victor has a hand raised to the throbbing wound on the side of his head. Fingers pressing gingerly, almost reverently, he takes a closer look. “Still bleeding,” is all he says and he’s already moving, sitting back on his heels and setting the side seam of his shirt in his mouth. His lips are tinged with blue around the edges, but in a quick motion, he has managed to tear off a strip from the black shirt with his teeth, and,

_Wow, that might be the hottest things I’ve ever witnessed with my own eyes._

Victor is wrapping the strip of cloth snuggly to Yuuri’s head, tying a small bow to secure it in place. He has one hand resting on Yuuri’s arm, the other cradling the uninjured side of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri wants to say something smooth to him then. Something that might distract Victor from the fact that Yuuri might be the world’s biggest idiot for running away from a party, getting lost in a snowstorm, and knocking himself out with a tree root. 

He can’t think of anything to say that would make him look less like a dumbass, so instead he says through numb lips, “Your shirt’s ripped.”

_World class dumbass._

Victor hangs his head low, hands falling from Yuuri’s arm and head, and starts to laugh. He’s still sitting back on his heels, and he’s suddenly laughing so hard that he rolls backward onto the floor, upsetting a large cloud of dust into the air. The dust motes drift lazily about the small cabin as Victor collects himself enough to sit up. 

His mind is still working slowly, too slowly, but he is vaguely proud of himself for making Victor laugh. He thinks he needed this, some laughter to lighten the mood. They are freezing cold, soaking wet, and all alone. His head is still swimming from the hit he has taken, and Victor’s phone doesn’t seem to be working. All in all, not Yuuri’s best Christmas to date. A little levity can only help. 

“Victor,” Yuuri begins hesitantly. “Do you know where we are?” Victor sighs and looks around the cabin.

“Not a clue. Quite a ways from Chris’s place. I was looking for you for over an hour before I found you. It was even longer after that before I found this cabin.” Victor sweeps his hair back over his ear, and stretches his hands close to the fire. “The others are back at the cabin. We looked together for a bit before I could convince them to go back and call emergency services to send Search and Rescue.”

Yuuri sits up taller. Well, he tries to sit up taller anyway, and lets out a shriek.The thought of anyone going through all the trouble of actually calling emergency help is absolutely horrifying. 

He tries to work up the energy to continue his protests, but a large shiver works its way through Yuuri’s body. In the last few minutes, his body has gone from strangely warm to violently cold. 

_Oh, yeah, stages of hypothermia, hypothermic recovery, and all that._

Victor is in a panic instantly, leaping to his feet and searching wildly around the cabin for something useful to help. “I’ve looked in a few boxes,” he says as he rummages through containers, throwing things haphazardly, “but I wasn’t able to find anything helpful besides some matches to start that firewood. We need to get you warmed up. Now.” 

Objects are being displaced from their boxes and thrown into random piles. Newspapers, a small cup, a spool of twine, fishing tackle. 

“Ah!” Victor emerges from a box triumphantly holding up a small animal fur and thin tartan blanket. Yuuri wrinkles his nose in disgust, but allows Victor to wrap the fur around his shoulders and the blanket around his legs. It barely covers his shoulders and chest, but Victor is standing proudly over his handiwork, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the fur stinks beyond belief. 

“Thanks,” he says through chattering teeth. “Yeah, thanks, thats uh. That’s good. Really good.” He smiles weakly up at Victor. Wet pants, soaking shoes, damp hair, strip of stomach peeking out from his torn shirt, he looks a mess. A cold mess. His lips were blue before, but as Yuuri looks closer, he can see wind chafe along his cheeks and fingers that are working too slowly. Victor might be as cold as he is, he realizes. 

Swallowing thickly, he moves the fur off of his chest, and gestures for Victor to sit. “Shared body heat? You know, science,” he offers weakly. Victor gapes down at him. He draws his bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth, before squaring his shoulders and resolutely sitting next to Yuuri. 

_Jesus_ , Yuuri moans internally, _I didn’t realize it would be that off-putting to sit next to me._

As Victor settles next to Yuuri, shoulders barely touching, Yuuri tries to throw the fur across both of their shoulders. It flutters to the floor between them. He stares down at the fur, unsure what to do next. They’re too far apart for the small covering to be effective, but he doesn’t know how to bridge this gap. 

The wind is whistling through small cracks in the cabin door, tiny snow flurries making their way inside. The fire is roaring in its small hearth, but doesn’t do much about the chill of the room altogether. The wind and fire are the only sounds making themselves known in the dark until Victor dares to break the silence.

“If it’s...ok with you, could I,” Victor isn’t meeting Yuuri’s eye, but that’s fine because Yuuri finds that he can’t quite meet Victor’s either. “Could I sit a bit closer?”

Since it’s easier than speaking, Yuuri shuffles himself over, draping the blanket over both their legs. He leaves the fur on the floor, because honestly it’s too small to actually be helpful. But he won’t tell Victor that. 

A cloud of white steamy breath billows around Victor’s head as a sigh escapes his lungs. His head leans back against the wall with a soft thunk, and he closes his eyes. 

Yuuri definitely doesn’t use this opportunity to stare at Victor’s profile. He doesn’t drink in the clean lines of his face, what his hair looks like disheveled and mussed. The silver of his eyelashes, the gentle rise and fall of his muscular chest...

Yuuri shakes himself before he can start composing another list about Victor’s many perfect physical attributes.

He’s saved when Victor, eyes still closed, whispers, “I didn’t know about your dog. I’m really sorry about that. It was poorly handled.” 

If victor’s eyes had been open, he would have seen Yuuri’s incredulous gaping.

_This is what he breaks the ice with?_

“It’s...fine. Well, it’s not fine, but it will be fine.”

Their breath fogs in front of them, two matching clouds of cold mist. Yuuri’s shivers have only increased since he’s been sitting on the floor, even with Victor’s close proximity. So much for science. 

“This isn’t working,” Yuuri says on his next exhale of cold breath. 

Victor finally opens his eyes and turns, lips blue and slightly parted, to look at Yuuri. His shoulders slump, and he crumples in on himself.

Victor sounds defeated and lets out a weak “I know,” as he looks down at the black and green blanket.

“This weekend was just—”

“We need to move the blanket to—”

They both start and stop simultaneously. Yuuri’s brows creep closer in confusion together as Victor’s climb higher. 

“You’re talking about the blanket?” Victor questions, and he holds the corner up hopefully. “Yeah, it’s not working well enough. You’re right. You haven’t stopped shaking since we got here. Shaking is better than not shaking I guess, as far as hypothermia is concerned, but we still need to get you warmer. My phone isn’t working, you know, it got too wet outside in the snow, so I don’t know what time it is exactly. It’s early in the morning by now though. Maybe one o’clock. I tripped in the snow before I found you, and I guess it got wet because now it isn’t—”

Victor is gesticulating wildly as his mouth runs away from him again. His lips are still chilled and blue, bringing out stronger hints of his Russian accent. Yuuri can’t think about that right now, can’t think about how unbelievable sexy that is, he just needs to derail this talking train. Victor is still babbling on nervously when Yuuri places a cold hand on his arm.

“Victor.”

He stills immediately, frozen more effectively by Yuuri’s hand than any snow storm could ever manage. He’s full of frenetic energy, a little wild around the edges. 

_Well, that makes sense,_ Yuuri figures, _I clam up when I’m nervous, while he plows full speed ahead._

Yuuri can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

_It’s cute, really. Cute, but ultimately useless right now._

“Victor, we need to do something. We can’t sit here in the cold all night, and the snow isn’t letting up, right?” 

Victor braces his hands on his knees and slowly rises to his feet, blanket left behind on Yuuri. He pads through the dust and cobwebs to peer through the small, dirty window on the far wall. The window is dark, and Yuuri can’t see anything from where he sits. It doesn’t look good, going by the grim set of Victor’s jaw. 

_So no hope of leaving tonight, then._

He doesn’t have any idea where they are. He isn’t familiar with the area like Chris might be. Victor probably has a better idea of how to make their way back to the cabin, but since he hasn’t volunteered this option yet, Yuuri doesn’t think he likes the chances.

His mood, which had lightened considerably with Victor’s nonstop chatter, evaporates into dust. Yuuri gingerly picks up the offensive brown fur from the floor next to him. He brushes the small flakes of dust from it and carefully rolls it into a small pillow shaped ball. 

“Excuse me one moment,” Yuuri offers politely to a dumbfounded Victor before he doubles over, raises the fur-ball to his face and _screams._

Yuuri screams, and he screams. It’s perfectly muffled against the horrible smelling fur, and that seems fitting somehow. Between the quiet, beautiful moments of the weekend spent happily with his friends, Yuuri has been anxious and frustrated. Christmas isn’t supposed to be this hard. Being around Victor isn’t supposed to be this _hard._

Phichit’s cheerful and urgent voice suddenly echoes in Yuuri’s mind. It hadn’t stood out to Yuuri then, but now…

“Just get out of your own way, Yuuri, and let something good happen to you for once!”

_Something good couldn’t possibly happen in this freezing, desolate cabin. Could it?_

Yuuri raises his head from his makeshift pillow and sits up. Victor is staring at him, saucer shaped eyes blinking a few times. His arms are raised halfway up, as if he meant to stop Yuuri, or console. The absurd and almost comical look of horror and panic on Victor’s face almost makes the whole situation worthwhile. 

For the second time on the cold, dirty cabin floor, Yuuri is smiling. The weight on his chest feels a bit lighter, he feels like he can finally think a bit clearer. He should have screamed days ago. That would have been a much more effective solution than running away. 

_It can’t get any worse. The situation that we’re in, and things between Victor and I. It can’t get any worse, right?_

Yuuri gets to his feet and throws another small log on the fire. Embers scatter, and the fire hisses as the log begins to catch with flame. There’s a quiet jingling sound as Yuuri’s numb fingers fiddle with the belt buckle holding his pants up. His pants are off and Yuuri begins working on his shirt, one arm in the sleeve before Victor objects, “Yuuri,” His choked voice is tight and his eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline once more.

“What are...”

His left sleeve is off, arm bare.

“Yuuri, wai—”

His head is through the hole, right arm following close behind. Victor collects himself enough to get out one complete sentence. “What are you doing?!” 

He is now standing, almost nude, in front of Victor and hasn’t felt better all week.

“I’m getting out of my own way.”

Victor stands dumbfounded as Yuuri matter-of-factly lays his soaked clothes on the edge of a box near the fire. He balances on one foot after the other to remove wet socks and carefully places them next to his shirt. 

“Come on,” Yuuri says, and three steps is all it takes to cross from where Victor is standing frozen in place. “We aren’t going to warm up in these wet clothes. We should have taken them off the minute you got that fire going.” 

Yuuri tugs at the ripped seam of Victor’s shirt, intention clear. He helps him out of his damp shirt and tries very, very hard not to stare at his tight stomach, or let his fingers linger on the muscles of his back. 

“Wow, Yuuri,” Victor smirks, removing his pants on his own now. “If I had known that hypothermia was all it would take to get us out of our clothes, I would have tried it two days ago!”

Yuuri rolls his eyes and huffs as he lays Victor’s clothes out to dry. Of course, Victor would crack a joke now. He probably just doesn’t want to make Yuuri feel insecure about this absurd situation they’ve found themselves in. 

Yuuri is no shrinking violet when it comes to nudity. Growing up helping his parents run the Onsen made sure of that. Victor’s body is exquisite, of course, he has seen it on stage a few times in various states of dress. Not that Victor knows this, of course, as he is careful to always sit in the back. Victor might have the body of Michelangelo's David, but Yuuri isn’t embarrassed about the way he looks. 

Sure, he’s embarrassed about a thousand other things about himself, but he can’t bring himself to care about their state of undress right now. 

“Come on,” he calls, “let’s get under this blanket and get closer to the fire.” He looks over his shoulder as he gathers up the blanket. “You know, for—”

“Science?” Victor finishes for him, smiling wide.

. . . 

They’re both suppressing full-body shivers with the blanket draped over themselves. Victor is laying behind him, arms folded, Yuuri carefully tucked into the curve of his body. He can feel the cold puffs of air against his neck as Victor breathes against him. They’ve made a large stack of cardboard boxes against the door, to keep the flurries of snow and gusts of wind out. It’s lucky that the previous occupant of this small hunting cabin stacked such a large pile of wood for the winter. The fire is crackling high, hot and bright. 

He can finally feel his feet again, and he’s not sure this is a good thing. Stabs of pain shoot through his toes up into his feet and legs. He groans against the discomfort and throbbing. A few days ago, spooning Victor is something he could have only imagined. Somehow, he never imagined it would be this uncomfortable.

He needs to distract himself. It’s going to be a long night like this, shivering and focusing on his own discomfort. He needs something to focus on besides his own pain-racked body, and Victor’s skin against him own.

“Victor,” he starts, but doesn’t know how to finish. He feels the folded arms against his back twitch slightly. 

A quiet breath tickles against his neck. “What is it, Yuuri?”

“...did you always know you wanted to dance?” 

Victor is still behind him. They lie there, as motionless as two very cold people can be, for long minutes. It’s long enough that Yuuri thinks that maybe he isn’t going to answer.

“I watched my mother dance when I was young. She was so beautiful, on the stage. She always looked so confident. So in control.” He pauses for a moment, just breathing quietly.

“My childhood was not easy. My father’s parents didn’t approve of my mother’s career as a dancer. It was hard enough, staying on the stage with a child to raise. Not many dancers can continue after…” He trails off again, and Yuuri doesn’t dare speak as he waits for him to continue. He just watches the flames dance in front of his face, mesmerizing and warm.

“When I was old enough to decide to dance, my grandparents tried hard to discourage me. They already removed any financial support after their marriage, and weren’t about to contribute to my dance education. When my father died…” Yuuri’s lips part and a small gasp escapes his lips before he can stop himself. “...my mother couldn’t afford the type of dance education she so desperately wanted to give me. Professional dancing doesn’t pay as much as some people seem to think it does. My mother struggled to make ends meet, to find care for me while she danced, to teach me what she could teach me on her own.”

Yuuri believed it. Artistic athletes relied on sponsors, patrons, and dance companies to pay their way through equipment, training, and living expenses. He found that much out before he quit figure skating as a child. It would be especially hard to continue without the support of wealthy parents. Or grandparents. 

“I envied that control that my mother had on the stage. Like nothing could be wrong in the world, as long as she was dancing. After she died too, I was basically on my own. I needed that control, after...after everything that happened. I needed it like breathing.”

He can feel Victor’s clenched fist against the bare skin of his back, his fingers opening and tightening into fists, over and over. 

“It’s why I’m at a university. That’s why I’m dancing at a school in the States, instead of joining some prestigious Russian troupe when I was a kid. I needed the scholarship money to keep dancing.”

Yuuri’s mind is turning over at this revelation. It makes sense, now that he thinks it through. Why would this Russian prodigy be here, and not dancing in his home country? Russia is home to most of the world’s elite dance groups, as far as he knows. He wonders what Victor must have been like as a child, to make this decision.

Did he watch those dancers with envy or hope, as a child? He must have known that staying in the profession would be hard without the financial support of his parents and grandparents. 

Yuuri feels a flash of anger. He deserved more. He sees a sudden vision of a young Victor, silver hair catching in the beams of backstage lights watching his mother dance, and then watching as his childhood and future are both slowly stripped away. 

The blanket shifts a bit as he turns slightly on his back to turn his head to Victor.

“Do you wish it could have been different?”

Blue eyes meet his in the firelight. He watches the small changes in expression as Victor mulls the question over. He can’t begin to guess what all of the expressions mean, but when Victor’s eyes crinkle in a smile, he doesn’t have to.

“Not at all.”

He takes a slow, steady breath before continuing. “I loved my parents, loved my mother. I’ll always be grateful for the time I had with them.” 

He sighs as he turns onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. Yuuri’s eyes follow his, and he can see the shadows cast by the fire dancing.

“She called me Vitya. I can sometimes still hear her voice, when I’m dancing, calling out ‘Vitya, Vitya!’ I’ll never wish my life was different, as long as I can still hear her voice like that…” He trails off into silence.

Yuuri likes this silence. It feels comfortable, somehow. It was like this the other night too, after the gift exchange, the both of them talking on Victor’s bed. Well, mostly Victor talking, but Yuuri is more than happy to listen. He would listen to Victor forever, if he could. 

In a moment of courage, Yuuri lays his head carefully onto Victor’s chest. He can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. He must have the made the right decision because Victor huffs a small, breathless “wow.”

Victor reaches his arm over to grasp his wrist, and Yuuri’s eyes go wide. He carefully places Yuuri’s arm over his chest, leaving his hand settled on Yuuri’s own.

He can feel the rumble of Victor’s chest as he asks, “Is this ok?”

He finally feels warmer. The overwhelming, racking shivers have subsided. The shared body heat does wonders. Yuuri is warm, inside and out, _finally_ , and answers honestly.

“Yes.”

. . . 

“Yuuri.”

He’s being shaken awake _again_ , and Yuuri feels profoundly offended by this. He was comfortable!

_Unfair!_

Wasn’t he asleep on Victor before? What happened to the even rise and fall of Victor’s chest, and the soothing sound of his heartbeat in Yuuri’s ears?

“...Yuuri!”

At least he still hears the soothing whisper of Victor’s voice. Or no, wait, that isn’t soothing at all. It’s panicked and loud, and finally rouses Yuuri from the warm slumber that had overtaken him. He cracks both eyes open with an effort, peering through his dark lashes at Victor hovering over him. He has one hand on Yuuri’s forehead, and it feels cool and _wonderful_.

“You’re burning up, Yuuri, you’ve got a fever.”

Yuuri doesn’t know what the hell Victor is on about, because he feels pretty fine. Pretty great, actually. He’s still a little cold and he wants that blanket around himself more than ever, but he doesn’t feel like his limbs are going to shiver themselves right off his body anymore. 

He wishes that he could have stayed wrapped up next to Victor a little longer, but he supposes that the soothing hand on his forehead is an acceptable substitute. Yuuri unconsciously presses up into Victor’s hand and sighs. 

“Come on, budge up here, I looked through all the boxes and there isn’t any medicine or anything. I melted some snow in this cup though, you can at least have a drink.”

This sounds like a great idea, and he immediately forgives Victor for waking him so abruptly. He’s sitting up now, and shuffles himself backwards practically into Victor’s lap. Victor gingerly wraps the blanket around Yuuri’s shoulders again and presses an awful plastic mug into Yuuri’s hand. 

The mug feels heavy in his hand, and it takes more of an effort than it should to raise it to his lips. He takes a swallow before passing the cup back to Victor. That took...more energy than it should have. 

_Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do have a fever._

“What time is it?” Yuuri slurs a bit as his eyes flutter back closed. He can’t help but let his head thunk back onto Victor’s chest. 

_It’s where I wanted to be in the first place anyway._

“I don’t know. Really late? Early?” There is an oddly fond tone to Victor’s voice and he thinks if he looks back, he might see a smile there. Now that Yuuri is awake and obviously not in immediate danger, the alarm has left his voice. 

Victor wraps both arms around him and rests his head in the crook of Yuuri’s neck. 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Victor breathes into him, “I know you don’t like it when I touch you, I know that now, but—” He falters, and when he resumes, Yuuri can barely hear him. “But I need to be close right now. I need to make sure you’re ok.”

Something feels wrong with what Victor just said, but his mind is muddy and slow, and he can’t quite piece together what it might be. Every thought feels sluggish, but he manages to mumble, “I do like it.” With that, he goes limp in Victor’s arms, relaxes, and lets sleep take him again.

(December 26)

Phichit is looking at him askance. 

“You see, Yuuri? Don’t you get it? He likes you!” 

He is already shaking his head in negation. Phichit wasn’t there, he didn’t _see_ , didn’t _get it_. Phichit has always looked on the sunniest side of every situation, taken every silver lining and crafted himself a cloud entirely out of gold instead. 

“He wasn’t holding me out of anything except a sense of obligation. He rescued my pathetic frozen ass from that storm, and he said he needed to keep me warm and ‘make sure that I was ok.’ Nothing more.”

And Yuuri wanted more. He did. He’s been putting up a brave front about friendship, and getting to know Victor better just for this week. Told himself that he could just be close to him for a few days, and then just...move on. Put this stupid crush away for good. 

But he can’t, he knows that now. Victor is so much more than he ever thought he could be. He’s caring, brave, and really kind in his own way.

Phichit has been twisting the edge of a blanket in his fingers, twining it haphazardly over and over. Yuuri realizes that he’s agonizing over...something. The tension in the blanket is so tight it looks ready to snap. Phichit looks ready to snap. Instead, he calmly removes his fingers from the blanket and takes the phone out of his pocket. 

A few swipes of his fingers, and his phone is being pressed into Yuuri’s hands. 

“Look.”

Yuuri looks. 

It’s a text conversation between Phichit and Chris.

**He’s coming right?**

**Yes!! i told u i’ll bring him and i will**

**This whole thing only works if that grade A booty will be there. The moping stops this Christmas. I can’t take another year of this.**

**he’ll come, i’ll figure something out.**

**Maybe i’ll just tell him that Victor’s coming haahaha**

**Do you think that would work?**

**maybe ??? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

**Send me your flight info in wechat, I’ll get it taken care of. Parents are good for something, right?**

“Yeah, ok? So you and Chris were in on this the whole time, we already established that?” Yuuri has passed the phone back to Phichit, who is flipping to another screen.

**Hello Phichit! It’s Victor Nikiforov.**

**hey Victor, whats up. Uhhh not to be rude but what are u doing in the wrong DMs on this fine day**

**What?**

**nvm, whats up my dude**

**It’s Chris’s Christmas thing next week. I need a gift idea for Yuuri. What should I get him? I’ve been to seven stores, please help.**

**wow uhhhh ok**

**well Yuuri like lots of things i guess**

**he likes fps and dogs and socks**

**Fps?**

**first person shooter games**

**i also have it on good authority that he likes accessories for hamster cages. But you should just forget the present and take him on a date instead**

**Oh! Hey I just remembered something that I think will be perfect. Thanks Phichit**

**...ur welcome i guess**

“He was trying so hard, Yuuri! Seven stores!”

He has to admit, it does seem like a lot of effort to go through for a dumb gift exchange. The effort that Yuuri put in was mainly spent trying to choose a gift that was thoughtful, but simultaneously a gift that appeared to take no thought at all. He thought the pocket dictionary was a good idea. Still does, actually.

Amazingly, Phichit is still scrolling through his phone. The slow smile that creeps across Phichit’s face is telling. 

_He thinks he’s won,_ Yuuri realizes.

“It’s from this morning.” His smile stretches wider. “At the cabin.”

He didn’t realize that Phichit was even at the cabin this morning. He must have said this out loud, because Phichit waves him off. 

“I wasn’t there, this is from one of the rescue workers who found you guys. She snapped…” he takes two fingers and zooms in. “...this!”

Yuuri looks. Blinks. Looks again. Victor is carrying him, bridal style, out of the cabin. His arms are wrapped around the blanket that kept them warm throughout the night, and Yuuri’s head is tucked into Victor’s chest. He had been awake for this, but was so mortified by Victor’s demand to carry him to the car that he hadn’t dared to look at anyone, let alone Victor.

Phichit gently takes the phone, zooms out and swipes to the next photo. 

Victor has him halfway to the car, two rescue workers hovering at each shoulder. His brow is furrowed, and his mouth is open in a demanding bark. One rescue worker’s hands are in the air, a clear surrender of the situation to Victor. 

Phichit swipes one last time.

Yuuri is sitting in the back seat of the SUV, silver emergency blanket wrapped snugly around himself. Victor is tucking one corner gently in around him. Yuuri’s head is bowed, hair fluffy and unruly. Victor is gently tucking a strand of his black hair behind his ear. The look in his eye is…

He doesn’t think he’s seen anyone look at him the way that Victor is looking at him. There is worry there, yes, but also...satisfaction? Relief? The small, private smile on his face makes Yuuri’s breath catch in his throat. Victor is looking at Yuuri like he’s got something precious in his hands. 

_Could it be?_

Yuuri looks up at Phichit, who is radiating triumph. He is smiling, and Yuuri knows that Phichit has been waiting to show these to him. He had been walking him through it all morning, because Yuuri wasn’t ever going to get there himself, it seems. A list begins to form itself in Yuuri’s mind.

  1. Victor had made sure that Yuuri was going to be on this trip. Wasn’t going to come along if he wasn’t there, in fact.
  2. He remembered that Yuuri likes poodles because he saw his phone case once.
  3. They talked for ages, and he has never felt more comfortable with anyone else that quickly.
  4. He stayed outside the bedroom all night when Yuuri was upset, keeping every prying eye away.
  5. Victor was the only one who—



“You’re probably on number nine by now,” Phichit rolls his eyes. “But you don’t need a list to analyze this, Yuuri.” He’s right. Yuuri could go on thinking and examining every event of the week until he has grey hair like his dad. Or he could just…

“Where is he?” he asks Phichit urgently, but he thinks he already knows the answer.

Phichit pockets his phone and stands. The blanket is being carefully folded and placed onto the sofa. Phichit licks his palm and smooths some of the more unruly strands of Yuuri’s hair down. He gives him an encouraging nod of approval and crosses the room to open the door to the hallway beyond. 

Victor stumbles to his feet with one hand bracing himself against the wall. His hair has fallen over one eye, but his other is wide and searching. He’s wearing the same clothes as the night before, though they are at least dry now. His shirt is torn, and he only has one sock. He’s off-balance and disheveled, and Yuuri is helplessly charmed.

Phichit walks past Victor, claps one hand on his shoulder, and wanders down the hallway in search of Chris. If Yuuri had been able to do anything but stare at Victor in amazement, he would have seen the wink that his friend throws over his shoulder as he left.

“Hi,” Yuuri begins, lamely.

“Hi.” 

They both break into grins and the spell that held Victor’s eyes to his vanishes in an instant. He’s smiling so widely that his eyes have disappeared, and Yuuri thinks that he would do a lot of things to see this smile every day from now on.  
  


Yuuri is smiling right along with him, and starts to laugh when he thinks of the week that they both just had. The absurdity that wound its way through this Christmas holiday and gripped the both of them tight. He collects himself and wonders vaguely why Victor is still standing in the hall.

_He’s waiting for permission,_ he thinks. _He’s waiting for me._

_He’s been waiting all along._

He won’t make him wait any longer. He walks to the hallway and stands in front of Victor, arms clasped behind his back. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, excess energy escaping through nervous movement. 

Yuuri has a hundred things he would like to say to him, a thousand misunderstandings he would like to clear up. Before he can begin to clear the air between them, there is something he has to say first.

“Thank you, Victor.”

From the slow blink Victor gives him, this wasn’t what he expected Yuuri to say. “For what?” he says, confusion evident in his eyes. 

For so many things, Victor, thank you. For coming for me in the snow, for thinking of me all week, but mostly…

Yuuri takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a rush. “Thank you,” he continues, “for letting me be myself. For meeting me where I am. For asking, when no one else does.” 

Victor’s face has softened in obvious relief at Yuuri’s words. “Is that all?” he says with a smile. “Because if that’s what it takes to be with you, Yuuri, then that’s—” 

He wraps Victor in a tight hug, arms thrown over his shoulders. His breath is pressed out in a sudden rush as Victor’s arms tighten around him. He feels weightless as he’s lifted off his feet and spun in a slow circle. He breathes in the smell of him, the unique smell that is Victor, and thinks he won’t be able to live everyday without this smell and these arms around him. The seed of possibility that has been growing in his mind in the last few minutes whispers that maybe he won’t have to. 

Victor’s breath tickles his hair as he murmurs to him, “Is this ok, Yuuri? Is this what you want? Am I who you want?” His arms are still pressed tight around his back, comforting and warm.

“Say it is, Yuuri, please say it is.” 

He is nodding his head into Victor’s neck, letting the embrace speak for him. He been turned around, and finds his back against the wall. His hands find their way into the short hair of Victor’s nape. It’s soft, silky, perfect. Victor has one hand resting on Yuuri’s hip, while warm fingers trace gently across his cheekbone. It feels unspeakably tender, and Yuuri can’t help but notice how Victor’s eyes have settled on his lips. 

He looks just as he did in the bedroom, when they sat side by side speaking and sharing with each other. This time, Yuuri isn’t going to let the opportunity pass. Victor is close enough that Yuuri can feel his breath, count the soft silver sweep of his eyelashes as they blink slowly. 

_Now. God, let it be now._

Victor’s lips have parted, but he holds himself steady, waiting. Yuuri realizes what he needs, what he is waiting for, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s nodding. 

“Yes, it is, you are,” he whispers, and stretches up onto his toes to press his lips gently to Victor’s own. Victor has melted against him, lips warm against his, and hands caressing carefully and firmly around his head, his hair, his hip. As his mouth falls open, and Victor’s tongue brushes against his, a small noise escapes from deep in his throat. As first kisses go, this one takes the cake for Yuuri.

_Let this last forever,_ he thinks in a daze. _Let this be the first of so, so many firsts for us._

As seconds stretch into minutes, they embrace in the dim hallway. If either of them cared to notice (and they didn’t care to notice), they would have seen Phichit and Chris’s heads peering around the corner at them, smiles knowing and triumphant all at once. 

(January 5)

The crowd is cheering loudly, whoops and hollers scattered among the polite applause. Victor’s chest is heaving as he takes center stage next to the lovely ballerina he has danced alongside. The company has taken their bows and exited, leaving the principal dancers to collect their roses and congratulations from the audience. 

Victor’s eyes scan the audience, as they always do, searching for Yuuri’s frame silhouetted in black as he squints past the blinding stage lights. He had always found Yuuri in the back before, clapping loudly, imagining himself hidden behind the rest of the crowd. Today, he spies him quickly as he stands in the front row, eyes bright and smile wide. He can’t hear Yuuri’s voice through the din of the crowd, but can easily read his lips as he cups his hands to his face and shouts,

“Vitya! Vitya!”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, this is literally the first thing I've ever written in my life. Forgive my excessive use of em dashes and names instead of pronouns.


End file.
